I have a good mind to do it!

But, no; crises in general must wait, seeing that our particular one stands clamoring for solution. The concrete bids away with the abstraction. None of our friends of this history could be brought just now, for a single moment, to seek solace in philosophy, unless it might be Professor Blatherwick--and he is entirely oblivious of the fact of the crisis having made its appearance.

Not so, for instance, with the professor's extraordinary daughter, whose feelings were so lacerated by the culminating proof of the fickleness of Bra.s.sfield at the Pumphreys' reception that she wondered how she could ever have thought of keeping him in that perfidious plane of consciousness in the hope that therein he would cleave to her only.

Better a good friend in Amidon, said she, than a false lover in Bra.s.sfield. Howbeit, she isolated herself and mourned, thinking much of the wrong her deed of the reception had done to Amidon, and wondering how it might be remedied.

Nor with Mr. Amidon, who, while ignorant of the full extent of his misfortune in the eyes of Elizabeth, yet knew that he was deep, deep in disgrace with her, and found so many plausible reasons for it that the episode at the reception seemed the least of them. He knew enough of Bra.s.sfield to believe him guilty on any charge which might be brought against him. The only doubt he allowed himself was as to how far he, Florian Amidon, was morally responsible for Bra.s.sfield's wrong-doings.

He had no doubt that Miss Scarlett had a real grievance against Bra.s.sfield, and, in an extremity of woe, made up his mind that Amidon must hold himself to the sorry trade of answering a debt he never contracted. He knew from a brief interview with Alvord that the political situation was bad, but for this he had scarcely a thought since the tragic breaking-up of their little Belshazzar's Feast. It was his relations with Miss Waldron and Miss Scarlett which placed him beyond the reach of philosophy.

So also is Judge Blodgett, who has been busy since the banquet, some of the time with a towel about his brow, searching through Edgington's library, to which his connection with the Bunn's Ferry well case gave him the _entree_, for the law of breach of promise of marriage as defined by the Pennsylvania decisions. Edgington himself was apparently always from his office. Blodgett's call on Fuller and c.o.x was most unsatisfactory, Mr. Fuller with some acerbity disclaiming all knowledge of any such case as Scarlett versus Bra.s.sfield, and Mr. c.o.x being invisible.

"They act," said he to Florian, "like people who are out for revenge, or a vindication, or something besides money. I don't consider their att.i.tude favorable to a compromise."

"Well," said Amidon, "that does not surprise me at all."

"It doesn't, eh?" went on the judge. "Well, I can't say that anything surprises me; though I was a little taken off my feet by a rumor that something took place between you and the plaintiff at that party the other night. How was that?"

"There may have been something," said Amidon calmly, "but you must get particulars from some one else--Clara, perhaps. You see, she was giving tests, and put me into that--Bra.s.sfield state, (why, I can't understand)--and I don't know what occurred; but there was something."

"I'd like to know about that," said the judge contemplatively, "I'd like to know. That stairway episode--that collision, you remember--may not count for much on the trial; but with a few corroborative circ.u.mstances, eh, my boy? Farmer jury; pretty girl; blighted affection; d.a.m.ned villain, you know. But say! she's got something to prove if she wins, under the authorities here, and there are more cases in this state than there ought to be in the whole world; but a summer-resort engagement, girl of mature years, a little bit swift down the quarter-stretch and all that--cheer up, Florian, we'll win, or we'll make it a great case----"

"Blodgett," answered Amidon, who heard with horror the lawyer's forecast of the trial, "she may not have to prove anything. There may not be any trial. I must know these facts! I may owe her reparation.

I may--anything! I must know; and no one but Madame le Claire can help us, and she must act through that accursed scoundrel who has got us into all this--Bra.s.sfield! Go to her, Blodgett, and tell her that she must see us. I have asked for an interview a dozen times since that reception but she won't see any one. Get an interview for this afternoon; and you must be present and hear her bring out of him a full confession; not as my attorney, but as my friend, as a gentleman. If you find out the worst, as I believe, I shall offer----"

Judge Blodgett gave Amidon's hand a warm grasp.

"That's like you, Florian," he exclaimed, "and it's the part of a man!

But I'd see her in Halifax first! Why, you may be called to give up--have you considered--Miss Wald----"

"No no!" said Amidon, "that--_she_ is no longer a factor in the case.

It's all over with her anyhow, if---- I can't talk of that; but can't you see that this other matter must be cleared up--before I can even come into her presence? Can't you see----"

"I'll see the madame," said the judge. "Yes--I'll see her! I'll see her at once. I guess you're right about it, Florian."

Madame le Claire was keenly conscious of the converging lines of fate, the meeting of which was so rich in baleful promise. She was prostrated at the result of her work at the reception. She had seen Florian in a position of utter humiliation. She had observed the gray pallor in Elizabeth's face as she walked from the room, and felt on her conscience the murder of their happiness. She had seen--and this hurt her more than she would to herself admit--she had seen Bra.s.sfield walk from a whispered conversation with herself--an amorous, wooing conversation--to a secret meeting with Daisy Scarlett; so that she felt despoiled of the hold she had had on the affections of even Amidon's false second self, Bra.s.sfield. For all this she blamed herself because of the little jealous spite, to gratify which she had made Bra.s.sfield walk his disastrous hour on the stage. What should she do? What could she do? She secluded herself and pondered. On this second day, she made her resolve: she would see Miss Waldron, and if possible explain as much of the mystery as might serve to satisfy her with reference to the affair of the East Room. Accordingly, a note went up to the house with the white columns, asking for a meeting. And as the messenger departed, the card of Judge Blodgett came in.

"No!" said Madame le Claire, to his request, "no, I must be excused! I can not conscientiously put him in that state again. If you could have seen him when last----"

"Exactly!" said the judge, filling in the pause. "And as I didn't see that reception affair, you must tell me about it. It's important for me to know."

When he had been told, the judge walked back and forth in evident perturbation, fingering over the leaves of a little square book which he took from his pocket.

"Did you ever," said he at last, "happen to hear what was the rule laid down in the breach of promise case of Hall versus Maguire?"

"Breach of promise!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the young woman, inferring a volume from the words. "What do you mean?"

"These facts of which you inform me," said he, "bring Mr. Amidon's case within the rule in Hall versus Maguire, square as a die! Oh, I forgot to tell you! Mr. Amidon, doing business under the name and style of Eugene Bra.s.sfield, has been sued by Miss Daisy Scarlett, for breach of promise. No publicity, as yet, but----"

"Oh, it must be stopped!" exclaimed the occultist; "it shall be stopped! He is not guilty. He was irresponsible--ask papa about it; he will tell you so. This girl is coming to see me here to-day: I'll tell her how wrong----"

"No, no, my dear!" said the judge in a fatherly manner. "That would never do, never! You may have given a hint as to this matter of irresponsibility, worth considering. Promise of marriage--civil contract; abnormal state--irresponsibility: it looks pretty well! You should have been a lawyer. But this thing of having dealings with Miss Scarlett except in the presence of and through her legal advisers, Messrs. Fuller and c.o.x--not for a moment to be thought of by an honorable pract.i.tioner: not for a moment!"

Madame le Claire regarded him with a lofty scorn meant for these antiquated scruples of his; but before she could find words, the knock of the bell-boy called her attention to the door.

"Miss Waldron is below!" said she. "Judge, you may bring Mr. Amidon up in half an hour. I shall then be at liberty, and may grant his request. Please leave me, now; I have asked Miss Waldron to be shown up, and must see her alone."

Elizabeth Waldron, in this plexus of disasters, found nowhere a gleam of comfort. Her fine chagrin at the thought of such things as she feared might be censurable as overfree self-revelation to her lover in such things as letters and the sweet concessions of the new betrothal--all this was past, now. Tragedy has this of comfort in it: its fateful lightnings burn out of the atmosphere of life all the noisome littlenesses which have seemed worthy of concern. So it was with Elizabeth, as she now faced the very annihilation of all for which she had lived--centered in that "perfect lover," who was now worse than annihilated in this descent to a plane which made every act of homage to her so mean and common that she would have felt his status uplifted by some proof of great guilt on his part. And she could see no way of acquitting him. There was mystery in it, but no exculpation.

Mystery----

With the idea of mystery came in the image of the strange girl with the fascinating glance and the party-colored hair. Could it be possible that the occult power possessed by her might somehow furnish an explanation of her lover's strangely base behavior? More and more did this fixed thought engross her mind. She felt that she must know--must see this woman and her colorless father. Desire grew to resolve; resolve bred inquiry as to ways of compa.s.sing an interview; and in the midst of the inquiry, came Madame le Claire's messenger. Her answer was the putting on of her cloak for a visit to the occultist's parlors.

The two women faced each other like hostile champions in a truce.

Elizabeth's first aversion to the other had been swept away in the flood of righteous jealousy created by the Scarlett episode. Madame le Claire's unreasoning feeling of injury had been mitigated by the same baleful affair, and her sense of justice fought for Elizabeth; but no two women loving the same man ever met without antagonism.

"I thank you," said Miss Waldron, "for this invitation. I think you owe me the benefit of such light as you can give on some--some things--which are dark to me."

A little angry flush rose to Madame le Claire's cheek at the tone in which the first part of this speech was uttered. It pa.s.sed away, and was replaced by a gentler expression at the doleful and faltering conclusion.

"I owe you," she answered, "more in the way of knowledge than you imagine. I expect other visitors. Will you step into this little rear room? I may be called away from you for a while, but I shall return."

"I need not tell you," said Elizabeth, "how vitally important it is to me to know whether there was anything in your mesmeric influence over--Mr. Bra.s.sfield--which would cause him to do--things unworthy of him--as he did. Did you impose any such thing on him by your power?--could you have been so cruel?"

"Before I answer that," replied Clara, "there are many things to tell.

When did you first meet Mr. Amidon.--Bra.s.sfield, I mean?"

"Why do you call him by that name?" cried Elizabeth. "That is what Mrs. Hunter called him! One moment he told me he knew her; the next, he denied it to her face. What is there in this matter of names?"

Madame le Claire looked with a fixed and unwavering calmness at Miss Waldron, and answered in a tone of perfect rea.s.surance.

"There is nothing in it which can't be easily explained. You have known Mr. Bra.s.sfield a long time?"

"Since I was seventeen. He did my aunt and me a great favor, which lifted us out of poverty--about some land we had, and oil discoveries--I went away soon after this, but he has always been very kind and good--until--until this----"

Elizabeth walked to the window and looked out for a long time, during which Madame le Claire regarded her fixedly and tried not to hate her.

"Did he tell you much of his past?"

"No, he said it was a very ordinary past, and that he would tell us all about it some time; and then the subject never came up again. I never really cared!"

"Let me tell it to you," said Madame le Claire. "He was, all his life, a man of wealth and standing. He was a scholar and a student of the fine arts and letters. He was the pride of his town and his university. Then, all at once, nearly six years ago, came on him one of those strange experiences of which I, through my profession, am able to speak to you as one having knowledge. He became another man. His mind had drawn across it a dead line cutting off everything back of a certain date. He did not tell you of his life, _because he did not remember it himself_."

Elizabeth gasped, and turned pale.

"This life of his----" she began.

"--was a life which was in every way better--which will add to your pride in him. But you must be prepared for some strange and unexpected things. Now, for instance, a name--a name seems important; but what is it? This loss of personality--of self-consciousness relating to the past--it was loss of name, of mode of life, of all memory, except certain blind, unconscious reflexes, in which the brain had no part.

How the name of Bra.s.sfield was suggested to this new-born personality of his, no one can tell, he least of all. But----"